


Mystrade Prompt Challenges- October 2018

by Antheas_Blackberry



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Greg hates paperwork, Greg worries, M/M, Mycroft IS the British Government, Mycroft does frequent cafes, Mycroft is a wine snob, On the job injuries, Rain, Rosie is a terror, Scotland Yard, Sherlock is not good at tidying, Sickfic, Suggestive Material, aggressive sandwich making, minor accidents, non fashionable umbrellas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:01:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 5,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16156769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antheas_Blackberry/pseuds/Antheas_Blackberry
Summary: Mystrade Prompt Challenges- October 2018





	1. This shouldn't be happening

“This shouldn’t be happening,” Greg mumbled, breath catching. Waste of governmental resources, his train of thought continued.

It had been a long and exhausting day, and when Mycroft had shown up at New Scotland Yard in his government issued car, it seemed like a no-brainer to get in.

Long, slender fingers probed again; Greg’s own curled into the leather seat, nails digging in. He was probably leaving marks in the pristine material.

Mycroft pressed down more insistently, and groaning, Greg finally felt the muscle knot in his neck release.

He smiled and turned, his neck popping and cracking. “Thanks, love.”


	2. I know what I'm doing

It was barely morning. The night sky had changed from a midnight blue to a slightly paler shade of azure; the few scattered clouds were tinged with pink. Even from inside, Greg could tell that the air held a chill.

He stood leaning against the doorway of the lounge, arms crossed, watching as Mycroft straightened his tie for the umpteenth time. That and the slight tremor in his hands were the only indication of the anxiety that the younger man was feeling.

Mycroft caught Greg's eye in the reflection of the mirror. 

"I know what I'm doing," he said.

Greg gave a vague huff in response. 

With a final adjustment to his tie, Mycroft headed out toward the waiting car that would take him to Sherrinford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue: "I know what I'm doing."
> 
> The circumstances: In the lounge, just before dawn


	3. "I beg your pardon?"

When Greg had stopped in at a café for a coffee one Sunday morning, he didn’t expect to see Mycroft Holmes sitting at a table, newspaper and coffee in front of him. 

Greg paid for his coffee, and then walked over to where the elder Holmes was sitting, engrossed in his reading material. As he began to speak, a flock of women came in, obviously still out on the previous night’s hen do, given the volume of their conversation and attire.

The two men stared at each other for a moment until the noise was down to a dull roar.

“I beg your pardon?” Mycroft said. “I am afraid I did not hear a word that you said.” He directed an icy look towards the group, who were now calling out their coffee orders obnoxiously to the harried looking barista.

Greg smiled nervously and ran the hand that was not holding his coffee through his hair. “I was just saying hello.” He paused and then continued. “I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

“I had hoped for a pleasant change of scenery,” Mycroft stated. 

Greg couldn’t do anything but laugh and was relieved to see a hint of a smile on Mycroft’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "I beg your pardon?"
> 
> The circumstances...  
> in a café  
> on a Sunday


	4. "You're kidding."

It was late in the evening, nearing midnight. Greg was sitting by the dying embers of a fire started long ago. He yawned broadly, his jaw cracking. He then ran a hand roughly across his face, stubble bristling beneath his fingers.

A moment later, he heard the door open and close softly. There was movement and sound in the entryway as Mycroft hung up his coat and placed his umbrella in its stand. And then the man himself was in the doorway, looking drained and exhausted.

Mycroft entered the room and sank onto the couch beside Greg. He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, allowing Greg to take in his tired appearance. He could smell the faint scent of expensive cigarettes on him.

After a minute, Mycroft came back into himself and pinched bridge of his nose. He opened his eyes and regarded Greg. "They have finally seen sense. They have cancelled Brexit." 

"You're kidding," Greg said.

"Of course I am," Mycroft snapped. "The lot of them are imbeciles and not one of them could find their way out of a paper bag. This situation is intolerable!" He sighed heavily.

Greg pulled Mycroft toward him, and the pair quietly watched the remaining embers in the fireplace slowly die out until nothing remained but ash.

Finally, Greg spoke. “Could be worse,” he quipped. “We could be in America.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue "You're kidding."
> 
> The circumstances: late in the evening
> 
> You must mention: cigarettes


	5. "Don't say a word."

It was late, close to eleven in the evening. Scotland Yard, or at least the floor that Lestrade’s division took up, was close to being deserted. 

Greg had been catching up on paperwork and had been deeply engrossed in it, until Mycroft showed up to escort his partner home. Instead, Mycroft found himself in a compromising position against Greg’s desk. 

The moment Mycroft walked in, Greg had abandoned his paperwork. He reached for his lover and pulled Mycroft to him. 

“Don’t say a word,” Greg whispered, as he trailed his fingers down towards Mycroft’s cock.

Mycroft moaned softly and allowed Greg to take control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "Don't say a word."
> 
> The circumstances...  
> at Scotland Yard  
> late in the evening


	6. "How many have you had?"

Mycroft was in bed reading, duvet pulled up to his waist. On the bedside table was the remnants of a cup of tea, various packets of medication and a scattering of tissues. He was looking and feeling absolutely wretched.

With a half-hearted eyeroll he snatched up one of the tissues and sneezed violently, wincing as his tender nose rubbed against the paper. “Bugger,” he muttered to himself in between expulsions.

“Bless you,” Greg said as he entered the room. He was carrying two cups of tea and placed the cups down next to Mycroft. He flicked through the detritus of the packets and frowned.

“Thank you,” Mycroft murmured, his voice hoarse and congested. 

He looked over at Greg who was still standing there beside him. Mycroft did not like the look on his face.

Greg sighed. “How many have you had?” 

Mycroft dabbed gently at his nose and avoided Greg’s eyes. “One,” he sniffed, which did nothing apart from causing him to sneeze again.

“Bullshit,” Greg said.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “I do not believe that is the proper response,” he muttered, reaching for a fresh handful of tissues.

Greg pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bless,” he sighed before continuing on. “You knew what I bloody well meant, Myc.”

Mycroft glared at him from behind his tissues. “Fine,” he snapped. “Five.”

“Five? You can’t be serious!” 

Mycroft finished tending to his nose and tossed the tissues into the bin beside the bed. He directed another icy glare at his partner. “I feel miserable and my sinuses hurt excessively. What did you expect me to do?” He picked up his tea and sipped.

Greg sighed again and sat down next to Mycroft. “I’m sorry. I just worry about you.” And your blood pressure, he thought to himself. He squeezed his lover’s leg. 

Mycroft feebly pushed his hand away. “Stop. You will catch this if you are not careful.”

Greg chuckled. “I’ll be fine. Budge up.” He took the mug from Mycroft’s hand and placed it down.

Mycroft sighed, but acquiesced as Greg pulled him into an embrace. The unwell man leant his head against Greg’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He felt Greg kiss his forehead and he smiled for the first time that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue: "How many have you had?"
> 
> The circumstances: in bed
> 
> You must use the word: tender


	7. "Show me."

Greg sighed. He had been waiting all day for this match and now he was interrupted again.

“Show me,” he said to Mycroft as he heaved himself off the couch. 

The pair walked into the kitchen, where a bottle of wine was waiting to be opened.

Greg shook his head in disbelief. He longed for the days when his wine only required a twist off cap rather than a cork, a decanter and the need for the wine to ‘breathe.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "Show me."
> 
> The circumstances...  
> in the kitchen
> 
> And you must use the word...  
> twist


	8. "Can we please?"

It was early in the morning on Mycroft’s birthday. He had awoken early as he was wont to do. Instead of getting up, showering and dressing for the day, he watched Greg sleep until the older man rose from slumber himself. Perhaps it was his normal time for waking. Or perhaps it was the insistent hardness that was pressed into Greg.

Greg rolled over to face Mycroft, silver hair rumpled and sticking up from sleep. This pleased Mycroft and he smiled fondly at his lover.

Greg returned the grin and reached up to caress Mycroft’s face gently before kissing him. “Happy birthday,” he said softly.

Mycroft smiled lazily. “Thank you, my dear.”

The inspector allowed his eyes to travel down southward along Mycroft’s body. His eyes sparkled mischievously. “Can we please?”

“Oh yes indeed,” Mycroft managed to get out before being utterly and completely ravished. Birthdays only come once a year, you see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dialogue - “Can we please?”   
> circumstances - in the bedroom on someone’s birthday
> 
> And it is my birthday! :)


	9. "You are utterly impossible."

Mycroft was attempting to get some additional work completed, despite the late hour of the evening. He needed to read one more briefing before he was done. He closed his eyes for just a moment in order to refocus.

In that moment, Greg had come up behind him and kissed the back of his neck, nuzzling into the soft, fine hair there. Mycroft shivered from the contact. Chuckling, Greg did it again. He then slowly turned the chair around, so his lover was facing him, and pulled him into a kiss.

“You are utterly impossible,” Mycroft said, pulling back from the embrace. 

Greg pulled him closer, this time deepening the kiss, nipping Mycroft’s lower lip.

“And incorrigible,” Mycroft murmured, his work now completely forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "You are utterly impossible."
> 
> The circumstances...  
> at home
> 
> And you must use the word...  
> need


	10. "What is that . . .?"

It was bucketing down outside. Mycroft watched the torrential rain from inside the small café and was certainly glad to be inside, rather than out. He was hoping the weather wouldn’t delay Greg’s arrival.

A few moments later, Mycroft watched as Greg hurried down the street toward the café. He watched in disbelief; not quite believing what he was seeing.

Greg practically dove inside, shaking off his umbrella and wiping the stray raindrops from his coat. He grinned at Mycroft.

Mycroft didn’t return the smile, in fact, he looked rather troubled.

“What’s wrong?”

“What is that . . .?” Mycroft asked, gesturing to the umbrella.

Greg barked out a laugh. “It’s Sally’s. I left mine in the car, and I wasn’t going out in that rain without one.”

“It’s hideous,” Mycroft said with a shudder.

All Greg could do was laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "What is that...?"
> 
> The circumstances...  
> at lunchtime
> 
> And you must mention...  
> the weather


	11. "Is that wise?"

It had been a quiet morning and an even more dull afternoon. It was a miserable day outside; heavy rains and wind had kept Mycroft and Greg from venturing outside.

Greg had picked up Mycroft’s copy of the Times and began to contemplate the crossword.

“Is that wise?” Mycroft asked, raising an eyebrow.

Greg shrugged and picked up a pen.

 

 

 

 

 

Twenty minutes later, Greg’s silver tresses were mussed and Mycroft was wisely, but only partially engrossed in a novel.

Greg sighed audibly. “Myc? What’s a ten letter word for wish?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "Is that wise?"
> 
> The circumstances...  
> on a dull afternoon
> 
> And you must use the word...  
> wish


	12. "You're full of surprises."

Greg was stuck at Scotland Yard for the duration. He normally didn’t mind so much, but it was a Saturday and he was stuck at his desk doing paperwork, the bane of his existence. It was making him cross.  
He scrawled his signature across yet another pointless form and picked up the next with a scowl. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to make sense of what this one was on about.

As he was trying to decipher what Anderson had written, there was a sudden movement in front of him. He nearly jumped out of his seat.

“Christ, you startled me!”

“My sincerest apologies,” Mycroft said. He frowned down at the piles of paper. “I come bearing gifts,” he continued, placing a coffee down on Greg’s desk.

“Thanks, love.” 

Greg picked up the cup and took a sip, immediately pulling a face.

Mycroft rolled his eyes but pulled out a handful of sugar packets he had stolen from the cafe and placed them down beside the coffee. 

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” Greg smiled fondly at Mycroft.

Mycroft couldn’t help but return the grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "You're full of surprises."
> 
> The circumstances...  
> at the weekend
> 
> And you must mention...  
> something stolen


	13. "What about tomorrow?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "What about tomorrow?"
> 
> The circumstances...  
> at The Diogenes  
> at one AM

It was late; one am. Mycroft was still in his rooms at the Diogenes. While these rooms catered to his every need, it was the last place he wanted to be. However, it was the best place for these. . . negotiations, which were about to get underway once again.

Before he allowed the gentlemen in, he placed a call to Greg, to let him know he would not be home before the early hours of the morning. Before they hung up, Greg reminded him of a commitment he had hoped to get out of.

“What about tomorrow? Aren’t you supposed to be taking your parents to a matinee?”

Mycroft sighed. “Yes, but they will have to go on their own. By the time this matter has been put to rest, I will not be able to fathom the thought of the theatre.”

Greg chuckled down the line. “You just want to get out of seeing Kinky Boots.”

“Can you blame me?” 

Greg only laughed harder, before ending the call.

Smiling, Mycroft returned his mobile to his pocket, smoothed his tie down, and turned towards the door.


	14. "You're kidding." (2)

Greg stared at the corpse. He honestly wasn't sure to make of it, and as a result had texted Sherlock for his assistance. He was waiting for the consulting detective to grace them with his presence. 

With little else to discern, Greg moved back beyond the cordon and lit a cigarette. He stood there smoking glumly in the midday sun, until he felt a presence behind him. Turning around, Greg found Mycroft, not Sherlock standing there.

"What are you doing here?" Greg asked.

"I was in the neighbourhood," Mycroft replied. 

Greg rolled his eyes. "You're kidding."

The older Holmes brother let a ghost of a smile play across his lips. "Yes, I am. My brother texted me and said that you needed my assistance."

Greg refrained from rolling his eyes again. "Don't you think I would have called you if I thought you could help?"

Mycroft tilted his head slightly. "Of course." 

He was thoughtful for a moment. "I believe that Sherlock has an ulterior motive."

Greg looked at the ground. This situation was rapidly approaching uncomfortable and awkward. He was going to throttle Sherlock the next time he saw him!

Greg sighed. "And what would that be?" He looked up at Mycroft and was surprised at what he saw.

Mycroft smiled a genuine smile at the Inspector. "Come now, Detective Inspector Lestrade. We both know exactly what that is, don't we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue: "You're kidding."  
> The circumstances: at a crime scene during work hours


	15. “And the problem is?”

It was lunchtime, and Greg had returned home for lunch, if for no other reason than to get away from Scotland Yard. And Sherlock.

He was aggressively making a sandwich; slapping the ham onto the bread, when Mycroft walked in. Greg looked up in surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was concerned when I was alerted to the fact that you had returned home mid-day.”

Greg had finished making his sandwich and took a bite.

Mycroft could see his partner was irritated. He could also deduce most of the circumstances but would rather have Greg tell him himself.

“And the problem is?” Mycroft asked, once Greg had finished chewing and swallowing.

Greg looked at him in disbelief. “Your bloody brother is the problem.”

“Isn’t he just.” Mycroft stated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “And the problem is?”
> 
> In the kitchen at lunchtime


	16. “Is this all of it?”

It was one of their first dates. A finer day hadn’t dawned in some time and the balmy autumn day was a welcome break from the chill and fog of late.

Mycroft had taken Greg to a small bistro and the pair were looking out at the foliage, sharp against the contrast of the deep, blue sky. The trees were in their autumnal glory in deep reds and bright oranges.

Their meals were delivered by a quiet waiter, and the pair were left in silence.

Mycroft picked up his fork and was about to take a bite, when he looked up at Greg, whose face was unreadable.

“Is there a problem?”

Greg gave him a nervous look. 

“Is this all of it?” Greg asked, gesturing to the plate in front of him.

Mycroft could do nothing apart from laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Is this all of it?”
> 
> In a restaurant in autumn


	17. “Listen  . . . you and me. . .”

It was a chilly November day, but that had not stopped Mycroft and Greg from taking a turn around St. James’s Park. The sun glistened on the water and the frost-burned grass sparkled in the late autumnal sunshine as the pair walked in silence, only punctuated by an occasional sniffle.

It was their six month anniversary and Greg wasn’t sure if he should acknowledge such a thing. Finally, he plucked up his courage and turned to Mycroft.

“Listen . . .you and me . . .,” he began, suddenly nervous.

Mycroft regarded Greg, his cheeks pink from the chill in the air. He could read everything in those deep, brown eyes. He reached out and took Greg’s hand.

“Yes. You and I,” Mycroft agreed with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Listen . . . you and me. . .”
> 
> Outdoors on an anniversary


	18. “So, you changed your mind?”

Greg picked up his glass filled with a rather excellent Scotch.

“So, you changed your mind?” He paused, waiting.

“Not quite,” Mycroft began. “There was a rather unfortunate incident where I politely told the Home Secretary to ‘fuck off,’ leaving my evening free.

Greg gaped at Mycroft, unsure if he was serious or not, but could keep from laughing all the same.

“Guy’s a prick,” Greg agreed.

Soon, both of them were wiping away tears of laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “So, you changed your mind?”
> 
> After work on a Friday
> 
> And you must mention the word unfortunate


	19. "Where do we start?"

The pair entered the living room at 221B Baker Street, late one Saturday evening. Greg thought it looked like a bomb had gone off. 

Mycroft, reading his mind, spoke. “It looked better _after_ a bomb had gone off, I’m afraid.”

“Where do we start?” Greg asked rhetorically.

The DI looked around, unsure as to where he should begin, and finally headed for the kitchen in hopes that the kettle was still working, or that there was a large bottle of something alcoholic.

Frowning, Mycroft removed his coat and hung it on the back of the door. He stepped carefully over a pile of books and papers and headed towards the bookcase. 

He could not believe that a small child could make such a mess until he recalled several incidents when both Sherlock and Eurus were quite young. He began to alphabetise the books by author, pleased that the memory had not caused him severe anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Where do we start?"
> 
> The circumstances...  
> on a Saturday night
> 
> And you must mention...  
> a coat


	20. "Show me." (2)

It was lunchtime, but Greg was no closer to coming up with a declaration that he felt was good enough. He balled up another piece of paper and tossed it toward the bin. It missed, along with several others, which lay discarded on the floor.

He chewed on the end of his pen thoughtfully for a few minutes and then began scrawling again. This handwritten note ended up in the same location as all of the other ones.

An hour or so later, Mycroft entered the living room, finding his lover amongst a pile of discarded paper, his hair dishevelled from where he had been running his hands through it. He smiled fondly at him as he came around and sat down beside Greg.

Greg looked slightly embarrassed at the sight of all the paper tossed about the room. “Sorry about the mess,” he mumbled.

Mycroft chuckled fondly. This wasn’t the first time he had found Greg like this, and looking into his partner’s eyes, he could see that he was also recalling this day last year.

“I do not require a declaration of love from you, Gregory. I know every day how much you love me.” 

“I know,” Greg said. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to try.” He sighed heavily.

“Show me?” Mycroft asked gently.

Greg pushed over a blank piece of paper.

“Oh, come here, my dear,” Mycroft said, pulling Greg toward him. “Perhaps this will help your creative process,” he whispered before kissing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue: "Show me."  
> The circumstances: at lunchtime  
> You must mentioned: a shared memory and a handwritten note


	21. "Something's not right here."

It was Friday evening and Greg was meeting Mycroft at the Diogenes. It wasn’t exactly the place that he would like to be after a long day at work, but at least the alcohol was well above the quality at his local.

He was led into the rooms that Mycroft kept there and was left on his own. This wasn’t the first time that Mycroft was not immediately available upon his arrival. So, Greg sat down in a comfortable chair and waited. While he did so, he looked around the room.

“Something’s not right here,” he muttered to himself, as he tried to place what was bothering him.

Unbeknownst to Greg, Mycroft was observing him from the doorway. He’d been feeling wretched all day and was trying to keep this a secret from everyone. He felt terribly miserable and didn’t want any fuss, which was not like him at all. However, he had such an excruciating headache, he could hardly tolerate anything at this juncture. He hoped he could keep up the pretence until he could go home and close his eyes.

Straightening his waistcoat, he walked into the room. “Good evening Gregory,” he said quietly.

“Hey,” Greg said, looking up at Mycroft. As he did, he realised that the overhead lights were not on, just the table lamps and that they were on the dimmest setting allowed. That was what was bothering him; the lack of light. He might not be a Holmes, but he was a fairly decent copper. It didn’t take him long to notice that Mycroft was terribly pale, and it looked as if he was squinting, despite the low lighting.

Greg sighed. “Why didn’t you say that you weren’t feeling well?”

Mycroft looked affronted for a moment and then his shoulders sagged, and he sat down across from Greg. “How did you know?”

Greg smirked. “I am a detective,” he said. “It’s far too dark in here, and if you don’t mind me saying so, you look like crap.”

Mycroft huffed in annoyance, which led him to wince. Even breathing was making his head throb.

Greg smiled fondly at the younger man. “Come on. Let me take you home,” he said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue: "Something's not right here."  
> Circumstances: after work on a Friday  
> You must mention a secret  
> and use the word smirk


	22. "What were you thinking?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually utter crap as I have a splitting headache but I don't want to have to write like 7 on the weekend.

It was just before dawn, and Greg was started awake by a noise he couldn’t recognise. He reached out for Mycroft, but he was not in bed; his space cold. Greg pushed the duvet away and stumbled out of bed. 

He was barely out the bedroom door, when he saw a figure approaching in the shadows. Expecting the worst, he reached for the person and spun them around, pushing their face into the wall.

“Gregory, release me this instant,” Mycroft shouted into the wall.

It took a moment longer for Greg to realise that it was indeed Mycroft speaking to him and he quickly let him go. 

“What were you thinking?” Greg yelled.

“I thought I was coming up to bed,” Mycroft replied wearily. 

“Shit, I’m sorry love. I didn’t even think.”

Mycroft headed down the hallway toward their room, Greg following. “I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t have your handcuffs on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "What were you thinking?"
> 
> The circumstances...  
> just before dawn
> 
> And you must mention...  
> handcuffs


	23. "Actually, it wasn't easy."

The evening sky was brilliantly lit; pinks and oranges streaked across the fair-weather clouds as the sun slowly set. Greg wished for a moment that he wasn’t driving so he could give the sunset some attention. Instead, he flicked his eyes frequently to the rear-view mirror to watch its progress.

Sadly, he took a turn, and the vibrant sky was lost from view. With an inward sigh, Greg continued his conversation with Mycroft.

“Actually, it wasn’t easy,” he said.

“No,” Mycroft replied. “I can imagine it was not straightforward to convince my brother of anything at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "Actually, it wasn't easy."
> 
> The circumstances...  
> while on the road  
> as the sun sets


	24. "It always worked for me."

Mycroft was sitting in the living room, unable to sleep. He’d been sitting there for some time, a novel long discarded on the coffee table. There was no point in him reading or even sitting there any longer. It was just before dawn and he may as well get ready for the day.

He was about to rise from the chair when Greg walked in, hair sleep mussed and dressing gown half pulled on. He looked barely awake.

“I told you the last time, a mug of hot chocolate. It always worked for me,” Greg said softly.

“I have tried tea, hot chocolate, whiskey. None of it makes a difference when I cannot sleep.” Mycroft slumped forward in his chair, defeated.

“It’s still early. Sun’s not even up yet. Come back to bed.” Greg moved closer to his lover.

“I should prepare for the day,” Mycroft countered, but he didn’t sound enthused.

Greg held out his hand.

Mycroft took it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "It always worked for me."
> 
> The circumstances...  
> in the lounge  
> just before dawn


	25. "What's the alternative?"

Greg had accepted Mycroft’s invitation for a drink. He would have normally expected such a conversation to occur inside the private, protected walls of the Diogenes. Instead, they were sat in a posh wine bar, late in the evening. They were the only customers, so he supposed it was nearly the same thing.

Greg took a sip of his wine, thinking over the proposal.

"What's the alternative?" He finally asked.

Mycroft allowed himself to smile, which for some reason made Greg rather nervous.

“The alternative is that you walk out of here alone, Gregory.” 

Mycroft actually sounded melancholy when he spoke those words, Greg thought to himself.

Greg took his time considering, keeping his face from betraying any emotion, or so he hoped. Finally, he downed the remainder of his wine in one gulp. If he had been looking, he would have seen Mycroft wince at the act.

Greg regarded Mycroft carefully and then held out his hand. “I accept.”

Mycroft’s smile returned as he took Greg’s hand in his, and the pair rose and walked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What's the alternative?"
> 
> The circumstances...  
> in a bar or pub  
> late in the evening


	26. "Are you nuts?"

Mycroft stood outside the ambulance, watching and waiting. Finally, the paramedics were unnerved enough to finish what they were doing and carefully walk away.

Greg was sitting on the edge of the stretcher, ice pack held to his forehead. He struggled to his feet.

“What on earth are you doing?” Mycroft asked angrily.

“What time is it? I’ve got to deal with the paperwork for this.”

Mycroft stared him down. “Let me say this to you in words you will understand as it appears you are suffering from a head injury; are you nuts?”

Greg had enough insolence to grin. “Probably.” He adjusted the ice pack for a moment. “Paramedics said it wasn’t concussion, I’ll have you know. And the chief super will want the paperwork for this mess on his desk an hour ago.”

Mycroft looked as if he was about to speak, but Greg cut him off.

“And I’ll not have you meddling. This is my mess, I’ll sort it out.” He tossed the ice pack onto the stretcher as he eased himself down. He allowed Mycroft to study him; probably checking his pupil dilation and respiration.

“I’m fine, love,” Greg murmured.

Mycroft stepped back, nodding, the iceman persona back in place. “See that you stay that way.” He turned to leave, but Greg reached out, putting his hand on his arm.

“Don’t suppose I can get a ride, can I?” Greg asked hopefully. The additional time for them to be alone was for his benefit as well.

“Very well,” Mycroft replied, but his tone was lighter than it had been, and Greg knew not to press his luck. 

They walked to the car in silence. Once they were seated and the privacy screen drawn, Mycroft pulled Greg close and held on to him tight. 

“I’m fine, love” Greg repeated, pressing closer to his partner. “I’m fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "Are you nuts?"
> 
> The circumstances...  
> during work hours
> 
> And you must mention...  
> an injury


	27. "Apart from the obvious."

The sun was setting over London on a cold October day. Mycroft and Greg watched from the window in their sitting room as the sky blazed; changing from orange to pink, until finally dusk had settled, and the street lights were illuminated. Soon, it would November and the nights would be dark before either of them returned home from work.

Mycroft sighed. He detested the end of British Summer Time and the cold, dark nights ahead. Still, they were better now that he was no longer alone.

Greg watched the expression change on Mycroft’s face and frowned. He made a mental note to buy some Vitamin D.

“What would you like to do tonight?” Greg asked gently. “Apart from the obvious,” he said with a wink and a suggestive leer.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, but his expression brightened all the same. Perhaps there was something to be said about the long chilly evenings ahead. He reached out and took Greg’s hand and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "Apart from the obvious."
> 
> The circumstances...  
> as the sun sets
> 
> And you must use the word...  
> cold


	28. "Not without you."

Mycroft ignored Greg as he uncapped his fountain pen and began scrawling his signature across several documents. He did not look up.

Greg continued to stand over the desk. It was late at night and he was tired. All he wanted was to go to bed with the man he loved. He sighed irritably.

Mycroft raised his eyes from the papers and met Greg’s. “I have a lot of work still to address. Go on up to bed.”

Greg wasn’t taking no for an answer. "Not without you."

“Gregory,” Mycroft began and then he stopped. He knew that look. Greg would stand here for hours until he was done. It was easier for both of them if he just gave in. The paperwork would still be there in the morning.

Mycroft replaced the cap on his fountain pen. “Very well. You drive a hard bargain.”

Greg chuckled and held out his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "Not without you."
> 
> The circumstances...  
> late at night
> 
> And you must mention...  
> a fountain pen


	29. "For heaven's sake."

"For heaven's sake,” Mycroft mumbled to himself as he searched through a drawer early one summer morning. He pulled out gloves, braces, and other various bits of detritus, but could not locate what he was looking for. 

“Problem?” Greg asked, peering over Mycroft’s shoulder.

“Yes. Why have you re-arranged the drawers?”

Greg shrugged. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I can’t find anything!” Mycroft exclaimed, exasperated.

“That’s because that’s the junk drawer,” Greg replied.

“Oh. I see,” Mycroft said, although he was still perturbed.

“All of your belongings have been itemised and colour coded in the top drawers.” 

Mycroft opened a drawer at random to see all his pocket squares neatly folded and lined up like a rainbow. It must have taken Greg some time to do this, he thought. He turned to Greg and smiled. “Thank you,” he whispered, and pulled the older man in for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "For heaven's sake."
> 
> The circumstances...  
> on a summer morning
> 
> And you must mention...  
> gloves


	30. "Not sure I heard you right..."

Mycroft and Greg were walking through St. James’s Park one Sunday afternoon. It was a mild autumn day and the leaves were just beginning to turn. They stopped for a while, sitting on a bench in the sun, to watch the swans glide through the water.

Greg hadn’t planned it, but he was overwhelmed with the beauty of the park and the quiet grace of his partner, that he blurted out, “Will you marry me?”

Mycroft, who had been watching the swans rather intently, startled at Greg’s voice.

“Apologies. I am not sure I heard you right,” Mycroft said, blinking rapidly.

Greg turned to him, taking both hands in his. “Mycroft Holmes, will you marry me?”

Mycroft blinked several times again, as if it would help his comprehension.

“Yes, yes of course I will.”

Any other words were lost in the passionate kiss that followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "Not sure I heard you right..."
> 
> The circumstances...  
> somewhere well-known  
> on a Sunday


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The last short piece for the month. Thanks to all who read, commented and gave kudos. :)

Greg was having a terrible day at work. He was glad Mycroft was able to sneak away for an hour to meet him for coffee. He knew it wouldn’t solve anything, but it was better than taking his frustration out on his team.

Greg had been at the coffee shop for a good fifteen minutes by the time Mycroft arrived and had already consumed one coffee and was making good work on his second. Mycroft purchased a beverage for himself and then sat down across from his partner.

“What have I done wrong?” Greg asked with a heavy sigh.

Mycroft gave him an encouraging smile. “I am sure you have done nothing wrong. Why not present the case to me, if you would like?”

“You’ll listen? Greg looked a bit more hopeful. “I understand if you have to get back to work soon.”

Mycroft thought about the pile of reports waiting on his desk compared with the look on Greg’s face. He smiled again. “Of course I will listen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your dialogue:  
> "What have I done wrong?"
> 
> The circumstances...  
> in a coffee shop
> 
> And you must use the word...  
> hour

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue: "This shouldn't be happening"  
> Circumstances: in the car  
> Must use the word: curl (well I had to change the tense, but close enough, eh?)


End file.
